


Air It Out (Or Not)

by marvelaf



Series: Home #1 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Deaf Clint Barton, Eating Disorders, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mentions Purging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelaf/pseuds/marvelaf
Summary: Life was broken up into before and after, innocence and not, pretending to be loved and everyone knowing he’s not.Part 5 of Home #1!
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Home #1 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567540
Comments: 2
Kudos: 73





	Air It Out (Or Not)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Idea of Us (is stronger than we are)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272924) by [Squeaky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeaky/pseuds/Squeaky). 



> SERIOUS WARNING FOR EATING DISORDERS!  
> (Purging is discussed, but no one actually does!)  
> Hope you enjoy!

As the door clicks shut, Bucky feels the air sag on him. A heavyweight nestling itself into his shoulders and latching itself onto the bags under his eyes, pulling him down low. It’s familiar, yet this time, there’s no fear of having his nose broken or bloodied, only fear of a psychological nature. These people, as much as Bucky may fight, won’t give up. They want something from him, Bucky’s got no clue why or what. Maybe love? Or another perfect looking child to parade around? Or maybe they want a scapegoat or someone else to fix? Little do they know, Bucky’s totaled. All warped metal and broken glass crushed into the vague shape of what he used to be. Pieces of himself could be ripped out and put into something new, but it would never be the same. He would never be the same as he was when he was innocent. 

Mr. Coulson sits quietly on the couch, head in hand.  _ I almost feel bad for this guy.  _

“Um,” Bucky tries, breaking Mr. Coulson out of his trance. “I need a shower.” 

Mr. Coulson sits completely still for a moment, staring into Bucky’s soul, making his skin itch until he jumps into action. 

“Yeah, of course. Follow me,” Mr. Coulson says, moving to walk up the stairs. He stops short at a closet and pulls a few towels out. He doesn't hand them over to Bucky, but he places them on the counter in the bathroom. 

After a quick tutorial on the knobs of the shower, and the few seconds Mr. Coulson took popping the lids of the products, Bucky was alone again. With his back facing the mirror, Bucky sheds his clothes, leaving them in a neat pile on the toilet seat. Once the water was steaming Bucky stepped in, letting the hot water run over his tight muscles.  _ It’s only two and this has already been the longest day in existence.  _

He let his mind wander while scrubbing at his head with a hand full of shampoo. That was mistake number one. Images of himself in reflections, a body littered with scratches, bruises, and burns pour through his mind. The memory of waking up in a hospital bed, his arm gone and his new stump wrapped up in gauze, ratty old bear sitting on the bedside table, floated through as well. Life was broken up into before and after, innocence and not, pretending to be loved and everyone knowing he’s not. 

_ Mom’s dead. Dad wants his revenge.  _ Maybe he would let him when the time came unless his own demons came first. The half a banana sits guilty in his stomach. Bucky rinses the suds out of his hair. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and thinks of everything that has ever made him happy. Dogs, the way his clothes feel after being washed, the first run with his new sneakers, the stupid bear hidden in his room, his copy of  _ Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone  _ that he lost in the fire,  _ stop thinking about the fire,  _ the woods this morning, Steve. 

Warmth flooded Bucky when he thought of his smile, the one where Steve’s nose crinkled and his eyes shut tight. Steve, who took one look at his arm and stayed put, Steve, who asked him about his favorite color instead of his weed aversion, Steve, who paid Bucky more attention than Clint and Nat combined. Steve, who also has the body and face of a Greek God,  _ icing.  _ The way his shirt pulled tight across his chest, nearly bursting at the seams-  _ okay, thinking about Steve’s body in the shower, maybe not the brightest idea.  _

Once Bucky finishes everything, he turns the water off and steps out. Quickly he wraps a towel around his waist and stands in front of the fogged mirror.  _ Now or never, loser.  _

He takes his hand and rubs down the glass, allowing him to look at himself. Fat, ugly scars present themselves on his stump, reminders of his worth littering his skin. He could name the circumstance of every mark, loads of them being dad was drunk, or angry, but some were foster home number 2 or 3, glass bottle shattering on his shoulder. 

His eyes are frozen, stuck staring at everything he hates about himself when there’s a banging on the door. 

“What?” Bucky yells, his hand gripping the towel tighter. 

“Sorry. The water was off, I thought you left,” Clint stutters, “I’ll go piss outside.” The older boy quickly turns and Bucky can hear him bound down the stairs and out the door. Wrapping another towel around his shoulders, Bucky unlocks and opens the door slowly. 

The room is quiet when the door clicks shut. The room is still quiet when he pulls on his clothes. Silence rings when he lays down on the bed. 

“James!” Mr. Coulson yells up the stairs. A deep groan rips from Bucky’s throat. He pats dry and tugs his least smelly clothes on as quickly as possible with one hand. 

“Yes?” Bucky yells back. 

“Could you come down? You too, Natasha!” 

The three Coulson’s were sitting around the dining room table by the time Bucky got down there. Laying on the table in front of the seat Bucky sat last night was an iPhone. Clint eyes it as if it could blow at any second his clenched jaw twitching slightly, Nat couldn’t care less. 

“James, this is yours,” Mr. Coulson gestures to the phone. Bucky nods slowly, taking his seat and holding the delicate object in front of him. 

“Thank you.” 

“No problem,” Mr. Coulson warily eyes Clint, “Clint?” 

“James, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting recently. It was unfair to you and I will try my best to behave better around you,” Clint says, his voice low and his eyes avoiding any contact with Bucky.  _ Mr. Coulson made him say this.  _ Bucky has half a mind to not accept this sad excuse of an apology, but his mind wanders to earlier and he decides to not make another scene for at least the rest of the day. 

“It’s okay Clint.” Mr. Coulson’s eyes gleam. Clint’s shoulders sag slightly, and his shut eyes loosen. Nat’s eyes haven’t left Clint’s form the whole time, dark circles covering his under eyes, and his pale complexion makes him look almost sickly. Maybe Nat has every right to be worried, or maybe Clint is overreacting. Or maybe Bucky is unforgiving. Who knows? 

“Phil, Clint and I were gonna get dinner with everyone tonight, that cool?” Nat asks. 

“Where? You guys need money?” Mr. Coulson questions, for a moment Bucky forgets being here should be awkward. 

“Probably just the diner and we always need money,” Nat smirks. Distantly, Bucky wonders if Steve was including in ‘everyone’. 

“Yeah sure,” Mr. Coulson laughs lightly, pulling out his wallet, “James, you want to go?” 

_ Greasy diner food, with an audience? No thanks.  _ Nat’s eyes burn into Bucky’s skull and he immediately understands the message she’s trying to send.  _ Clint needs this. _

“Nah, I’m really tired. Think I might go to sleep early tonight.” 

Nat’s glare turns soft.  _ Thank you.  _

“Huh, guess it’ll just be us for dinner then. In the mood for anything?” Mr. Coulson directs his question to Bucky. 

“Not really hungry.” 

“Well you’ve gotta eat something, okay?” Mr. Coulson smiles, warm and comforting.  _ That fucking smile is gonna put me in a grave.  _ Bucky nods solemnly as Clint and Nat walk up the stairs.

“You can go back upstairs if you want,” Mr. Coulson offers.  _ That’s it? _ Bucky only nods again, mechanically standing from the chair and turning to walk up the stairs. 

“Don’t forget your phone!” Mr. Coulson laughs out and Bucky turns back and grabs it quickly. 

“Thank you, by the way,” Bucky mumbles before running up the stairs. 

His phone number is written on a piece of paper that’s taped to the back of the device. In the lonesome of the room, he goes into the settings and turns off every tracking feature he can find. Opening the contacts, he finds four numbers, house phone, Phil’s, Nat’s and Clint’s.  _ Doubt I’ll ever need that last one.  _ There’s only one number he really wants, but it isn’t on the phone already. 

“Natasha?” Bucky asks, knocking on her door. Loud music that Bucky’s never heard before invades his senses, along with some perfume and blue LED lights when the door swings open. 

“I told you it’s Nat,” she deadpans. Bucky quickly shoves the small piece of paper into her hands. 

“Could you give that to Steve tonight?” Nat’s lips quirk. 

“Why? Someone got a crush?” She accuses. Bucky’s face burns red. _This c_ _ ould be a mistake.  _

“No.” 

“Really?”

“Shut up.” 

Nat laughs a bit. “I’ll give him your number. Thanks for not coming.” 

“I didn’t even want to go. You’re crazy if you thought I would voluntarily spend time with Clint,” Bucky chuckles. 

“Watch it,” Nat frowns, “he’s still my brother, even when he’s cranky.” 

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Thank you though, for this,” Bucky motions to the paper. 

“No problem,” Nat says, shoving the paper into the back pocket of her jean shorts. “You know, if you want, there's gonna be a dage tomorrow at Tony’s.”

“A dage?” Bucky asks.

“It’s just a party during the day.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just that last time-”

“There's not gonna be any weed if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“Can I let you know?” 

“Yeah, it’s tomorrow at like noon. You don’t even have to stay the whole time if you don’t want to. I just thought, maybe you’d like to come,” Nat smiles lightly. 

“Why?” Bucky asks. Comfortable or not, it’s safety above all. 

“Steve’ll be there. And if you think avoiding Clint is going to make your life any easier, you’re wrong. Just talk to him and air your shit out.” 

“I- I don’t know Nat,” Bucky stutters. If he starts, he’ll never stop. If he starts, he can’t pretend anymore.  _ Like they’re buying my shitty act anyways. _

“ Just live a little, James. You want your story to die with you?” 

“I- You don't want to know my story” Bucky mutters, just loud enough for Nat to hear. She opens her mouth to reply but the conversation is interrupted by Clint swinging the door of his room open.

“Tash, can you-” he starts, “sorry.” 

“It’s alright, I was just going,” Bucky says, walking back to his room and gently closing the door. He flops his back onto the bed and huffs a loud breath.  _ Live a little. _

Distantly he hears Mr. Coulson say “bye” followed by the slam of the front door. What feels like minutes later, Mr. Coulson calls his name. 

“Dinner!” 

On the table sits one plate containing a piece of grilled chicken, boiled carrots and a small salad. 

“That’s all I want you to eat, okay?” Mr. Coulson says. It’s doable. He may not like it, but it could be worse, like last night. 

“Where’s your plate?” Bucky asks. 

“I already ate,” Mr. Coulson explains.  _ Great, he’s just going to sit there and watch me eat,  _ Bucky scowls. That is until Mr. Coulson turns and calls over his shoulder, “Just bring me your plate when you’re done.” 

Bucky sits alone at the table, his stomach growling loudly. First, the chicken gets cut up into small bits, and each piece gets chewed to completion. Then the carrots, the same way. His mind is yelling at him to stop at this point and his stomach is threatening to throw it all back up, but he continues anyways. 

The plate is so empty he might as well have licked it clean. Mr. Coulson looks more proud than Bucky has ever seen when he presents the plate to him. Bucky turns to go back up to his room once the dishes are clean, but he’s stopped. 

“Why don’t we watch a movie together?” Mr. Coulson suggests. Bucky doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say no yet, so he ends up sitting on the couch with Mr. Coulson channel surfing. Tension rises the longer the television flicks through meaningless infomercials and shitty sitcoms. Once a half an hour passes, Mr. Coulson says, “Guess there’s nothing on?” 

“You thought I would purge, didn’t you?” 

“Honestly yes,” Mr. Coulson sighs. Bucky nods slowly. “It was just a precaution. I was worried after our chat this morning.” Bucky nods again, his throat suddenly very dry.

“I- I don’t do that.”

“Okay, good to know. Thank you for telling me, but you have to understand that I couldn’t really trust you on that. And I figured just keeping you down here would be better for the both of us,” Mr. Coulson pauses for a moment, rubbing his hand over his stubble, “you know, when Natasha first came to stay with us, she was recovering from a relapse, and I thought everything had been fine until I found a little packet of meth in her room about a month later. She told me she hadn’t used any since staying with me, but it was there. It was always there. Now, years later she’s earned my trust, and I don’t feel like I have to search her room anymore, but it takes time, okay?” Mr. Coulson explains. Pieces of the never-ending puzzle in Bucky’s mind slowly started filling themselves in. 

“I understand,” Bucky pauses and looks at the time, “Well, it’s been long enough, everything’s probably digested by now. I’m gonna go to bed.” 

“Okay, goodnight James,” Mr. Couslon smiles, and for once Bucky lets it feel good. 

Sleep comes easy for Bucky, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. He wakes up to a text message.

(555) 555-5555:  **hey! its steve rogers! nat gave me ur number! wanna go back to the woods tm morning? lmk** _ 11:32 PM _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed, and remember, writers live off comments and kudos!  
> Come yell at me on tumblr at [marvel-af](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/marvel-af)


End file.
